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A conversation with Deep Rising filmmaker Matthieu Rytz about the promise and the peril of mining the ocean floor.

“To say, ‘Don’t harm the ocean’ — it is the easiest message in the world, right? You just have to show a photo of a turtle with a straw in its nose,” Michael Lodge, the secretary general of the U.N.’s International Seabed Authority, told The New York Times last year. “Everybody in Brooklyn can then say, ‘I don’t want to harm the ocean.’ But they sure want their Teslas.”
Canadian filmmaker Matthieu Rytz apparently didn’t get the memo. Deep Rising, his new documentary narrated by Jason Momoa, aims at one of the great contradictions of the energy transition: that deep-sea mining could provide a wealth of copper, nickel, and cobalt, the battery materials that are critically needed for EVs and clean-energy storage — and could also trigger ecological collapse in the fragile Pacific Ocean abyss.
At the center of this debate is the International Seabed Authority, a Jamaica-based U.N. organization tasked with the conflicting goals of protecting the ocean floor and writing regulations for the extraction of “polymetallic nodules.” The metal-rich nodules are sprinkled across an internationally governed part of the Pacific called the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, which starts about 500 miles south of Hawaii and by some measurements stretches roughly twice the size of India. By the estimate of The Metals Company, which has a multi-billion-dollar stake in an eventual mining operation, the supply of nodules would be enough to eventually power “280 million electric vehicles.”
At the same time, scientists — including a whistleblower from inside The Metals Company’s own exploratory team — have stressed that we know almost nothing about the deep ocean, least of all how a large-scale mining operation could impact everything from regional biodiversity to the potential extinction of undiscovered animals to ocean carbon sequestration. The nodules alone take millions of years to form.
On Monday, the International Seabed Authority kicked off a two-week-long meeting to discuss potentially issuing the first commercial mining permits. It’s already met staunch opposition: The United Kingdom just came out as the latest nation to demand a moratorium on deep-sea mining, joining calls for a total ban issued by France, Germany, New Zealand, and at least 13 other countries. (The U.S. is not a part of the International Seabed Authority because it was one of only four countries that declined to formally ratify the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea in 1984, thanks to Republican opposition. China, Norway, and Russia are the major proponents pushing for deep-sea mining to open up).
With this as our backdrop, I spoke to Rytz about the making of Deep Rising and the complexities of the deep-sea mining debate. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Tell me a little bit about how you discovered this story. As the narration points out, deep-sea mining is “out of sight and out of mind” for most people.
I discovered it in 2018 when I was finishing my previous film [Anote’s Ark], and working with the president of Kiribati in the middle of the Pacific. Because of the work I was doing, I had privileged access, since the president was the main character of my film. I started hearing the conversation about deep-sea mining when basically nothing was in the media; it was an absolute unknown story. It really intrigued me. I was like, Wow, this is a very interesting, complex story. I jumped on it and went on the long journey till now.
The U.N.’s International Seabed Authority begins a nearly two-week-long meeting this week that will potentially end with the issuing of the first provisional licenses for deep-sea mining. What has it been like to follow these developments while you’re in the final stages of releasing and promoting this film?
Once the mining code — if the mining code — is ratified, it will be extremely hard to change it. It’s not like in government when you have political football between two parties. Once the regulation is in place, it might take the same amount of time just to make an amendment because you need to get a consensus of all the U.N. members. So it’s a critical time now because they’re actually drafting it and if it passes, the text will define how deep-sea mining will go.
There’s still a chance, actually, to block it or to postpone it. There has been a big wave of countries signing a moratorium and there was very big news yesterday, from the U.K., which is supporting the moratorium. We’ve seen some smaller states sign it; France was a big one, but the U.K. is a significant gain in the movement for a moratorium.
But for me — and this is the story of Deep Rising as well — I’m like, well, okay, sure, let’s say deep-sea mining is stopped by a ban or a moratorium or simply because the mining code doesn’t happen. That doesn’t stop the need for nickel. And that, for me, is the biggest conversation, because if deep-sea mining doesn’t go ahead, it will mean way more pristine ecosystems are torn down in tropical rainforests — mainly in Indonesia, but also New Caledonia, the Philippines, Madagascar, a lot of places. In northern Russia, they’re mining nickel in the tundra and they’re releasing massive amounts of methane.
So for me, it’s not one or the other. Deep-sea mining is better because we’re going to save the rainforest is a fundamentally flawed argument. Because we don’t need nickel in the first place; there are solutions that are not based on finite resources. There’s battery chemistry that is based on iron-phosphate batteries. Green hydrogen is another very good example and a very good debate.
And, you know, we don’t need to buy that many private cars; we need to develop and share resources. When you see the climate bill from President Biden subsidizing every citizen to buy an EV, it’s basically subsidizing removing the pristine ecosystem in Indonesia. I don’t call that a climate plan.
I wanted to ask you about that. The script of Deep Rising can be pretty critical of the energy transition, calling it the “so-called green revolution.” Can you tell me a little about the use of that term, “so-called”?
This is exactly what I mean. You take the narrative of the “green revolution” from the official perspective — the president’s perspective or the industry’s perspective, from President Biden or Elon Musk. Let’s say they have the same narrative: Buy a Tesla and you’re going to save the planet. Because Tesla would not exist without subsidies; every taxpayer in the U.S. has spent massive amounts of money to make it happen. And I’m not against EVs, but it’s important to understand the climate has no boundaries. If you remove the ecosystem in Indonesia, you’re increasing the climate crisis in the U.S., and so on. You’re putting your citizens at risk. Every country is similar.
There’s no reason to go after finite resources like nickel. Again, if there was no solution, it’d maybe be like, “Oh, there’s a trade-off.” But the point is, at a very large, industrial scale, there are solutions to produce energy without extracting finite resources.
In the film, the narration states that “critical metals are not the solution; they are the new oil.” I’m convinced that there could be grave ecological consequences to deep-sea mining, but how do you reconcile that against the grave ecological consequences of the fossil fuels we’re extracting and burning now?
Again, it’s a matter of changing the chemistry of the batteries. If you take the composition of the Earth’s crust, nickel is 0.009%. Iron is 5%. Iron is everywhere. A company like BYD in China, they’ve been very successfully building for like five years now EVs that are as good as Tesla’s with no gram of nickel, no gram of cobalt. Iron and phosphate are widely available. Rivian, in the U.S., they’re also shifting. And that can happen — anytime soon, GM or Ford or Toyota could change their battery chemistry.
Wait — if this is something we have the technology for now, and it’s scaleable, why are mining companies spending all this time and money building deep-sea vacuum cleaners to suck up nodules to power batteries that we don’t even need to be using?
Because there’s a whole supply chain that’s already been built. And when you’re investing billions of dollars to build battery factories, you need to sell enough batteries to recoup your investment. The problem is we made the investment in the wrong direction.
The second problem is political. The EU could ban nickel in the battery and that’d be it. Then Volkswagen and Volvo and BMW and Renault, all the German and French carmakers, would have no choice. I don’t think it’s as easy in the U.S. but in the EU, that’s a move they could do. It’s happening: The U.K. did a moratorium [on deep-sea mining]. France did a total ban. And, of course, some will lose a lot of money, but it’s the right thing to do.
And the Chinese, by the way — most of the domestic market doesn’t use cobalt and nickel. They’re very advanced; the Blade technology from BYD is years ahead. But they’re not exporting that much because of the commercial war, basically.
On your website, you have a manifesto, which states that your aim as a filmmaker is to “ask uncomfortable questions instead of providing reassuring answers.” Can you talk a little about how that philosophy guided your approach to this film in particular?
My background is not in filmmaking; it’s in anthropology. I think because of my upbringing as an intellectual, I can see a system’s complexity. Filmmakers can sometimes cut straight to a conclusion and for me, it’s very challenging because I needed to simplify when making a film. I think I’ve oversimplified already; I see the film and I think “Oh, this is so oversimplified!” even when it’s a very complex film for most of the viewers.
I could have done a film that was just bashing the mining industry, showing how bad they are and how bad capitalists are destroying the planet. The problem with this is, you preach to the choir. The people you actually need to talk to, they will not listen.
Instead, I got invited to speak to the finance sector, the mining sector, a few weeks ago at a big conference in Geneva. Some of the biggest hedge funds and banks — a Swiss bank, a European bank, a Singaporean bank — they were all in the room. They were asking me for advice about if they should have deep-sea mining in their portfolio. We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars. And I was like, “I can explain to you why you shouldn’t.”
The change is massive when you can tap into the higher side, the financial system, basically. For me, it’s a really interesting goal, because I take this approach so it’s like, “Oh, you’re not just bashing us and saying how bad we are. Let’s set aside our differences and sit down for coffee.”
I wanted to ask about the disagreement within the Pacific Islands communities. On the one hand, you show grassroots resistance to deep-sea mining in Papua New Guinea; on the other, you also show a delegate from Nauru (which sponsors a subsidiary of The Metals Company) pressuring the International Seabed Authority to make a quick decision on commercial licensing. Is the jury still out on deep-sea mining when it comes to regional community support?
There are two forces here. One is that no corporation can apply for a deep-sea mining license. The Metal Company cannot go to Jamaica and say, “I want to mine the deep ocean.” You need to find a country that will sponsor you. So the Metal Company can fly into Nauru, the smallest country in the world, and promise them the moon. Nauru is a very specific story with a long history of extraction with the Commonwealth, with Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. They’ve been mining phosphate since the Second World War. So this is a very specific case.
When it comes to other countries, like Kiribati and a lot of other island nations, they’re kind of under the Chinese now. And there’s a lot of paradox with China because again, the domestic market is very different than the exporting markets. They’re fueling the rest of the world with nickel, so they have six licenses [in the Clarion-Clipperton Zone] and they’re lobbying quite hard now to get deep-sea mining approved. But they own 60% of the nickel capacities globally and the U.S. has 0%. So for the Chinese, they’d still get all this nickel to basically keep the rest of the world dependent on them.
I have to ask about the cinematography, which is absolutely gorgeous. I think a lot of times deep sea animals don’t get the respect of more charismatic environmental icons like polar bears or whales because they look so alien and creepy. But the footage you included really gives this part of the world vibrance, life, and personality.
It came from years and years of digging through hard drives. A lot of the footage comes from scientific expeditions. It was a very long process for me to convince the researchers to give me the license to use their footage, too, because their first reaction was like, “No, it’s scientific material; that specific jellyfish, which is undiscovered, is under embargo.” Which means the scientists haven’t published their paper yet. And I was like, “Guys.”
Is there anything else you’d like our readers to know?
The concept of the common heritage of humankind is very important. It’s outlined in the Law of the Sea, a set of strong rules by the U.N., that the deep sea belongs to humanity. And every citizen of the planet has a shared responsibility to really look at what is happening because it’s the biggest land grab in human history. The mining area is the size of Mongolia. It’s enormous: I mean, imagine if Mongolia, which is an entire country, was mined entirely. It doesn’t make sense. We have a shared responsibility because we know the climate crisis doesn’t have boundaries. Everyone is concerned.
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The group’s latest World Energy Outlook reflects the sharp swerve in U.S. policy over the past year.
The United States is different when it comes to energy and fossil fuels. While it’s no longer the world’s largest greenhouse gas emitter, no other country combines the United States’ production and consumptive capacity when it comes to oil — and, increasingly, natural gas. And no other country has made such a substantial recent policy U-turn in the past year, turning against renewables deployment at the same time as it is seeing electricity demand leap up thanks to data centers.
All of this is mirrored in the International Energy Agency’s 2025 World Energy Outlook, released Wednesday, which reflects a stark portrait of how America’s development of artificial intelligence and natural gas has made it distinct from its global peers. In combination, the effects of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act and the U.S.’s world-leading artificial intelligence development have meaningfully altered the group’s forecasts of global fossil fuel usage and emissions.
Much of the report compares two different scenarios for global energy usage and emissions — one looking at what governments are actually doing, and the other at what they say they want to do. The difference between the two is in the pace of the renewables buildout, and especially the pace at which fossil fuels’ place in the energy supply is wound down, if it is at all.
For example, the Current Policies Scenario (the stricter scenario) shows “demand for oil and natural gas continu[ing] to grow to 2050,” while the Stated Policies Scenario, or STEPS (the more optimistic one) shows oil use flattening “around 2030.” But in both cases, “gas demand continues growing into the 2030s, due mainly to changes in U.S. policies and lower gas prices.”

Even in the more optimistic outlook, natural gas use peaks later than it did in earlier forecasts. In 2035, the IEA projects, gas output will be 350 billion cubic meters greater than it projected last year, which is roughly equal to the annual gas production of Texas — and that’s in the optimistic scenario. “Three-quarters of this is for electricity generation, mainly in the United States, Japan and the Middle East, and reflects higher electricity demand and slower progress in adding renewables to the generation mix than projected,” the report says.
But the U.S. is not the whole story — the tide of renewable deployment continues apace. The clean energy analytics group Ember argues that the report’s “downgrades on clean growth in the U.S. are offset by rises in other countries,” especially as electric vehicles grow in popularity everywhere else. While the STEPS forecast shows a 30% drop in renewables capacity compared to last year’s projection in 2035 in the US (and a 60% drop in EVs on the road in 2035), “there are 20% more EVs projected in emerging markets outside China and the renewables forecast was also upgraded outside the U.S,” Ember said in a statement.
Ember attributes this to an “increasing focus on energy security,” with more countries following China in electrifying broader swathes of their economies in order to reduce their dependence on fossil fuel imports like natural gas, coal, and oil — including from the United States.
Similarly, Ember is sanguine about artificial intelligence throwing off projections for the wind-down of fossil fuels, which the IEA has and continues to portray generally as largely a U.S. phenomenon.
The IEA estimates that over 85% of global data center capacity growth will take place in the United States, China, and Europe, and that data centers will be responsible for only 6% to 10% of electricity demand growth in the EU and China through 2030. In the U.S., however, they’re responsible for about half of projected growth.
But it’s not just data centers that are causing the IEA to revise its figures. The IEA upped its forecast for electricity use in 2035 by 4% compared to last year, which amounts to some 1,700 terawatt-hours, a bit south of India’s annual electricity generation today. The group attributes this upward move in its forecast not just to “electricity demand to serve data centres” — which dominates discussion of energy use and climate change — but also to “higher demand for air conditioning in the Middle East and North Africa.”
While the economic benefits of artificial development are still necessarily speculative — with trillions of dollars of investment leading us potentially to a singularity of exponentially increasing technological development, machine-led human extinction, or somewhere in between — the benefits of air conditioning are far less so. With increased AC usage, even as temperature rises, heat-related mortality could fall.
And as the Global South heats and grows economically, its demand for and ability to procure air conditioning will grow, leading to higher energy usage and putting more pressure on the climate. The IEA figures square with another recent report from the climate and energy think tank Rhodium Group, which predicts a rise in emissions after 2060 due to economic development in the Global South.
In short, the energy consumption that feeds economic development all over the world is making the hottest parts of the world hotter while also enabling them to use more energy to cool their homes. At the same time, the richest parts of the world are increasing their electricity usage — and therefore their emissions — in order to develop a technology they hope will supercharge economic growth. The climate hangs in the balance.
After years of planning, the Tropical Forests Forever Facility has so far failed to take root.
In selecting a location for this year’s United Nations climate conference, host country Brazil chose symbolism over sense. Belém, the site of this year’s summit, is perched on the edge of the Amazon rainforest. The setting is meant to foreground the importance of nature in fighting climate change — despite the city’s desperately inadequate infrastructure for housing the tens of thousands of attendees the conference draws.
That mismatch of intention and resources has also played out in the meeting rooms of the gathering, known as COP30. The centerpiece of President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s agenda was meant to be the Tropical Forests Forever Facility, an international finance scheme to raise at least $2 billion per year to fund forest conservation and restoration. After an inauspicious launch in which presumed supporters of the facility failed to put up any actual financing, however, it’s unclear whether the TFFF will have a chance to prove it can work.
Deforestation rates have hardly budged globally since 2021, despite more than 100 countries signing a pledge that year to halt and reverse deforestation and land degradation within the decade. The world lost more than 8 million hectares of forest to deforestation last year, causing the release of more than 4 billion metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere — nearly as much as the entire U.S. energy sector.
First proposed by the Brazilian government in Dubai at COP28, the TFFF was devised to deliver a more consistent source of funding to countries in the global south for forest conservation that would not depend on foreign aid budgets or be vulnerable to the ups and downs of the carbon market.
The plan involves setting up a fund with money borrowed from wealthier countries and private investors at low interest rates and invested in publicly traded bonds from emerging markets and developing economies that command higher interest rates. After paying back investors, the revenue generated by the spread — roughly a 3% return, if all goes to plan — would be paid out in annual lump sums to developing countries that have managed to keep deforestation at bay. Participating countries would have the right to spend the proceeds as they choose, so long as the money goes to support forests. At least 20% of the funds would also have to be set aside for indigenous peoples.
Brazil lined up substantial support for the idea ahead of this year’s launch. Six potential investor countries — France, Germany, Norway, the United Arab Emirates, the United Kingdom, and the United States — as well as five potential beneficiaries — Colombia, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Ghana, Indonesia, and Malaysia — joined a steering committee to help shape the development of the fund. The Brazilian government ultimately proposed a fundraising target of $25 billion from the sponsor countries, with the idea to attract about $100 billion from private investors, for a total of $125 billion to get the fund off the ground.
Once the fund started generating revenue, private investors would be paid out first, sponsor countries second, and forested countries last, with the $25 billion serving as insurance to the private investors should the emerging market bond issuers default on their payments. The fund itself would be managed by the World Bank, while a separate entity would govern payments made to forested countries.
While many in the international environmental community were enthusiastic about the plan — especially as a shift away from controversial carbon markets — some raised alarms.
Max Alexander Matthey, a German economics PhD student studying international finance, first saw a presentation on TFFF at COP29 and was baffled by its simplicity. “If it was that easy to make this 3% on borrowed money, why wouldn’t everyone else be doing it?” he recalled thinking at the time. After digging into the Brazilian government’s financial analysis and doing some of his own, Matthey came to believe that the fund’s proponents had underestimated the risk inherent to the investment strategy, as well as the cost of managing the $125 billion fund, he told me.
The whole reason these emerging market bonds command a higher interest rate, Matthey explained, is because they are riskier. If and when countries default on their debts, whether due to global financial shocks like pandemics or wars, or simple mismanagement, the “free money” available for forests will dry up. “These 3% are not up for grabs,” he told me. “They compensate for actual risk and defaults that will happen over time.”
The TFFF was designed to create an incentive for countries with tropical forests to invest in policies and programs to protect forests — to hire rangers to prevent illegal deforestation, to pay farmers not to raze their forests, to implement fire prevention strategies. “They have to heavily invest,” Matthey told me. “If we as the Global North say, Well, thanks for investing large shares of your budget into rainforest protection, but you won’t get any money from our side because financial markets turned the wrong way, that’s just not how you build trust.”
Matthey outlined his analysis in a Substack post in September with University of Calgary economist Aidan Hollis. They found that the JP Morgan EMBI index, which tracks emerging market sovereign bonds, has seen regular downturns of between 18 and 32 percentage points over the past two decades. In the case of the TFFF, a single 20-point loss would wipe out the $25 billion in sponsor debt “and halt rainforest flows, possibly before they even begin,” they wrote.
The energy research firm BloombergNEF seems to agree. In a report published last week outlining the state of international biodiversity finance ahead of COP30, BNEF forecast there would be “little progress” on the TFFF. “The 3% spread is not a money faucet, but a risk premium; studies on the TFFF appear not to have properly conducted risk analyses,” the report said, warning that in effect, the scheme would eat up development finance just to absorb private investor losses.
Just prior to that report’s release, confidence in the TFFF appeared to dip. Brazil’s finance minister lowered his fundraising ambition for the facility to $10 billion by 2026. A few days later, on the eve of the launch, Bloomberg News reported that the United Kingdom would not be contributing to the fund after the country’s treasury department warned it could not afford the investment, despite its significant involvement in the fund’s design.
Following the launch, Indonesia and Portugal each committed $1 billion, while Norway pledged $3 billion, although only if the fund successfully secures at least $10 billion. France also promised €500 million, or just over half a billion dollars, while Germany said it would contribute “significantly,” although it hasn’t said how much yet. All in all, countries committed just $5.5 billion above Brazil’s own initial $1 billion commitment — with at least $3 billion of that contingent on further fundraising.
Andrew Deutz, the managing director for global policy and partnerships at the World Wildlife Fund, which has also been heavily involved in developing the TFFF, assured me this was not the disappointment it appeared to be.
"I look at what just happened last week as validation that the model can work and that countries have confidence in it,” Deutz said. He pointed to the fact that 53 countries, including 19 potential investors, have endorsed the scheme. “A bunch of sponsor countries who haven’t been that engaged said, We like this idea, and I think that creates the opportunity and the momentum that we can get one or two more rounds of capitalization at least.” Deutz was bullish that Germany would come to the table with a pledge between $1 billion and $3 billion, and that the UK would “get guilted in” shortly. He expects to see additional pledges at the World Bank’s Spring Meetings next April, and a few more at the UN General Assembly next September.
As for criticisms of the fund’s investment strategy, he brushed them off, arguing that the risk was "quantifiable and manageable.” He has faith in the TFFF’s modeling showing that the fund’s managers will be able to earn high enough returns to pay back investors and still generate enough funds to pay tropical forest countries.
Charles Barber, the director of natural resources governance and policy at the World Resources Institute was more cautious on both fronts. “We’re glad it’s got as far as it has, but there’s a whole lot of questions that will need to be answered to really get it up,” he told me. Barber saw arguments both for and against the risky investment strategy, but he was skeptical that a starting point of $10 billion would be enough to attract sufficient private investment or give tropical forest countries enough of an incentive to participate.
Matthey has called the idea of a scaled-down TFFF a “worst-case scenario for everyone involved,” due to the high fixed costs of managing the fund, monitoring deforestation, administering the proceeds, etc. The potential payouts to forested countries would be so diminished as to amount to a “rounding error” rather than a true incentive, he wrote.
Deutz told me the TFFF’s architects always expected there to be a three- to four-year ramp-up period. If the fund gets one or two more rounds of capitalization, “we’ll see if it works — and then, assuming it works, you can keep adding to it,” he said. “This is something new and different, so it might take us a little while to prove it out and for people to get comfortable.”
Leading Light can’t move forward, a legal counsel wrote to state regulators.
Another offshore wind project on the East Coast is being quietly killed.
Legal counsel for the Leading Light Wind offshore project filed a letter on Nov. 7 to the New Jersey Board of Public Utilities informing the regulator it no longer sees any way to complete construction and wants to pull the plug.
“The Board is well aware that the offshore wind industry has experienced economic and regulatory conditions that have made the development of new offshore wind projects extremely difficult,” counsel Colleen Foley wrote in the letter, which was reviewed by Heatmap News. “Like many other industry participants, the Company has faced a series of obstacles in the development of the LLW Project including supply chain, equipment and vendor challenges as well as changing regulatory requirements, to name but a few of the issues the Company has confronted.”
Leading Light was going to be built about 35 miles off the coast of New Jersey. It was awarded a renewable energy certificate from the state in January 2024 and was expected to provide roughly 2.4 gigawatts of electricity to the grid, which would have made it one of the largest renewable energy projects in the country and enough, the developers said, to power a million homes.
That certificate, known as an OREC, came with state financial assistance but also required developers Invenergy and energyRe to meet specific project milestones. Yet in addition to facing supply chain issues both companies had been unable to pursue federal permitting because of the Trump administration’s policy on offshore wind. And for months, they had submitted extension after extension to filing a motion binding it legally to complete construction of the project.
But now Leading Light is dead for the foreseeable future. “The company regrets this decision but does not see a pathway forward for the LLW Project on this OREC award and looks forward to the future for possible solicitations,” Foley stated.
This means New Jersey’s offshore wind horizons are incredibly bleak, especially after Shell dumped its stake in the defunct Atlantic Shores offshore wind project last month. Almost all of New Jersey’s offshore wind contracts have now fallen apart, including those for the Ocean Wind, and there is little chance of Attentive Energy receiving federal permits under the current administration.
Only one project is now set to be operational off the New Jersey coast: Empire Wind. But it’s unclear if Empire will ever provide electrons to New Jersey itself since its only contract is with New York regulators. (It remains to be seen whether Empire’s developer, Equinor, will bid into New Jersey’s markets for the project’s second phase.)
It’s also important to consider the timing. On Nov. 4, New Jersey voters were swept up in a blue wave – but one that didn’t really hit many coastal areas, where a large majority of voters remained in the GOP camp. Republican gubernatorial candidate Jack Ciattarelli focused enormously on fighting offshore wind during his campaign, going so far as to sell anti-wind merch. So one can imagine a world where the coastline was part of a blue wave and an offshore wind developer wouldn’t immediately pull out of the state, but that’s not a world we live in.
When reached for comment on whether the project might still be built, Invenergy simply said, “Please refer to the filing.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to reflect comment from Invenergy and clarify Attentive Energy’s current status.
Emily Pontecorvo contributed to this article.